A Sweeter Song
by singsongsung
Summary: Nate gets a good grade in Boyfriend 1001. NS. Oneshot.


**A/N:** Just a little hopeful speculation for what's to come for NS. Reviews are love. :)

**i've got so much honey the bees envy me****  
****i've got a sweeter song than the bees in the trees****  
****i guess you'll say: what can make me feel this way?****  
****my girl. talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl). ****  
**(_my girl_) the temptations

_wht r u wearing?_

Nate picks up his phone and smirks to himself, slouching into his seat in Introduction to Philosophy 1031 and propping his feet up on the back of the empty seat in front of him.

_in class, babe_, he texts back, even though she must know that already.

_so ur naked?_ is Serena's swift reply, and he laughs, faking a yawn in an effort to disguise it. He picks up his book and tries to look studious. He's here to learn. He's not going to reply. (Even if he can totally picture the way she's giggling as she texts him, tongue poking into her cheek.)

It doesn't surprise him that his ignoring her doesn't deter her in the least. Thirty seconds later the screen of his phone lights up again: _wanna know what ur NOT wearing?_

He frowns, pretending to squint at the board. The girl on his left shifts in her seat, smiling prettily. "His handwriting's a pain in the ass to read, huh? He's a great teacher, though." she whispers sweetly, eyelashes fluttering.

Nate sends her a half-smile, glancing back down at his phone, which is lighting up again. No one ever said Serena wasn't persistent.

_ur__ blue st. j's lax shirt_.

Curiosity gets the best of him. _how do u kno?_ he asks, even though he never wears his Saint Jude's clothes to college classes.

Her reply comes back almost instantly. _cuz i am_.

He smiles a little wider, sets his fingers on the tiny keyboard of his phone, ready to type a reply –

She beats him to it. _and nthing else__._

It makes him fumble with his phone a little bit, he almost drops it. The girl on his left shoots him a dirty look that he acknowledges apologetically with another distracted half-smile.

_where r u?_

He sees, for a second, instead of the notes about Descartes on the board, the way her blue eyes always flash a little when she's in a mischievous mood.

_ur bed_.

Nate swallows. _S, i have class til 2._

_skip_.

He rolls his eyes a little. _u want me to fail?_

_nah, i just want you__._

He grinds his back teeth together. He's got the rest of this class – half an hour – plus finite math afterward (it's the class that always has him spending twenty minutes wondering _why_ and _how_ he decided to take finite math, five minutes attempting to listen to the prof, five minutes feeling utterly baffled, and twenty more minutes daydreaming of Serena), and afterward he usually goes to get coffee with Dan or kick around a ball with some of the soccer guys.

He doesn't really _get_ finite math, so he should probably go – but then again, why spend time _daydreaming_ about Serena when he can actually _be_ with her? His friendship with Dan this year is pretty great, but Dan doesn't trump Serena (nobody does). And he really likes playing soccer, but there are plenty of other ways to get, uh…exercise.

The girl on his left huffs demurely, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs, angling herself toward him. He glances at her face, not her legs, and she frowns. She huffs again, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater. "All of your texting is distracting those of us who are here to _learn_," she hisses.

If he hadn't already made up his mind, that would have finalized his decision. He shoots her his very best smile, says, "Sorry, I'll leave," with all the politeness his mother always wanted him to have. He stands, shuffles by her, walks to the back of the classroom and out the door.

--

_k, i'm coming_, he texts Serena, picking up her favourite latte from the closest café before he hails a cab.

He can practically hear her bubbly laughter when she replies seconds later: _not yet, baby_.

_gutter-minded girl_. He grins at the city as it flies past his window.

_ur girl, ur fault_.

And all of a sudden he really, really wants to be with her, right this instant, because she's _his_ girl. He sends his reply at lightning speed.

_more than ok with that_.

--

She's lying in his bed in a mess of blankets, upside down, her legs stretched out and propped up against the wall behind his headboard. The tv's on and she is, as she said, wearing his old lacrosse shirt. The blue looks pretty against her skin, which somehow maintains a touch of that summery, sun-kissed look all year 'round.

"Got your fave," he greets her, leaning in for an upside-down kiss before he hands her the latte.

She shakes it a little. "Half-empty."

"Got thirsty," he tells her, dropping a kiss onto her nose.

Serena sighs, touching his face tenderly. She sits up, slipping her toes beneath one of the blankets. "Get in with me, Natie."

He complies immediately, sitting next to her on the bed and letting his hand slide up her thigh, fingering the waistband of her lacy pink underwear. "I thought you said you were wearing my shirt and _nothing_ else."

She arches an eyebrow. "You took too long to get here."

But he doesn't act on the hint she's giving him, doesn't push her gently down onto the mattress and undress her fully. Instead, he wraps an arm around her, tugs her with him to lie back, their heads on the same pillow. "You okay?"

Serena cuddles into him, her arm slipping across his torso as she tilts her chin up so that her mouth can find his. "Of course…I am…" she murmurs between kisses.

He gives in for a minute (because it's _Serena_; there isn't really any other option) but then he makes himself pull back, bumps her forehead with his own. He's beginning to think that, despite all her flirtatious texts, really she just wanted him with her.

"M'okay," she murmurs, but she doesn't kiss him again, and her hands are gripping his shirt.

He buries his face against her neck, breathes in the smell of her coconut shampoo. "You're gonna make me fail," he mutters, glances at the tv and sees that she's been watching some reality show about fashion designers or something.

"I give you an A plus in Boyfriend 1001," Serena whispers, one of her legs slipping over his.

Nate rubs her back slowly. "Good, that might help rescue my GPA a little."

She's drawing patterns on his chest, hearts and squiggles and their initials. "Are you really missing a lot?" Her voice is small.

"No." He kisses her forehead, grabs the remote control and turns off the tv. "I missed you more."

With a shaky sigh, she amends, "A _double_-plus in Boyfriend 1001, Archibald."

He grins a little. "I'd give you the same mark in Girlfriend 1001 if you'd tell me what's bothering you."

Serena stiffens a little. "I'm _okay_."

He's patient. "A minus," is all he says.

She buries her face against his neck. "_Natie_."

"B plus, now. You're slipping, sweetheart."

"I'm _okay_."

He strokes her hair lazily. "You should come to Columbia next term. That way we'd be together and you wouldn't have to _distract_ me from my studies all the time."

"Oh, right." Serena sighs against him. "Because your studies are _serious business_."

"They _are_," he retorts. "You could probably stand to learn something for me; I'm going to have to knock your mark down to a B." He softens his voice, kisses her head. "Tell me what's wrong, Serena."

"Stop it. I told you, I'm okay –"

He's going to argue with her, but then he realizes that she's crying. There are damp spots on the front of his shirt. "Serena…" he murmurs worriedly.

"I _want_ to be okay…" She pulls away from him, sits up and hugs her knees to her chest. "I feel like…that's all I ever try to do, to be _okay_, but then I always mess it up somehow." She turns to him; big sad blue eyes, the kind he's never been able to resist, appealing to him.

Nate follows her lead, sitting up slowly.

"My family is a mess," she mutters, stricken. "_I'm_ a mess."

"_Hey_," he says softly. "Messy-Serena's my favourite."

She looks at him woefully. "_Nate_…"

He touches her cheek, brushing tears away. "Can I tell you a secret, babe? Something I learned in Boyfriend 1001?"

Her lips twitch – not quite a smile but not a frown either.

"You are _so good_ at making me okay. At making me better than okay."

"That's not true –"

"_Yes_, it is," he cuts her off. "And you said it yourself, you're my girl – so you've gotta let me make you better than okay, too. Yeah?" He doesn't wait for her to answer. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what will help. If you don't let me…then I won't deserve that A double-plus, and I'll fail college, and my mom will be _disappointed_…"

She rolls her eyes a little, blinking heavily. "Can we talk about it later?"

Nate leans in close, until their noses touch. He really is _learning_ now, what it is to be the most central person in her world – it's the easiest thing, but he has to make her _let_ him be that person. He can't let her run and hide; she needs to know on very explicit terms that someone loves her enough not to let her slip away.

"Promise me," he says.

"Mm…" She closes the small space between their mouths for a kiss. "Promise."

He allows his hand to trail down her arm. "What can I do right now?"

Her eyes are still shut. "Take off your shirt." She peeks at him through her eyelashes. "_Shirts_, actually."

Nate chuckles, toying with the hem of his lacrosse shirt that she's wearing even as he says, "You sure you…"

She crawls onto his lap, pushing gently at his chest until he's lying back on the bed. "Don't make me reconsider your mark, Mr. Archibald."

She's kissing his neck, hands beneath his shirt, and he's gone. "Wouldn't dream of it," he mutters. "This is my favourite class."

--

Halfway through undressing him she stops, her mouth lingering near his. "Did you mean that? About me being…your girl." She says it like she's trying out brand new words, all hopeful hesitance.

"My girl. My problem," he teases, and swallows any of her protests when he leans up to kiss her and flips them over.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling, she's pressed under him; _all his_. "I will _show_ you how much I meant it…"

"_Natie!"_ She giggles, and he smiles against her mouth.

--

He wakes up at 8:43 p.m., according to his digital alarm clock, the red numbers flashing mercilessly in his eyes. His phone is buzzing impatiently next to it and Serena is tucked against his side, breathing evenly, eyes closed.

Gingerly, trying not to wake her, he reaches for his phone. He has two new texts.

The first reads _A +++_ and he smiles. It's from about five minutes ago. The second is from two minutes ago, and he looks at Serena the second he finishes reading it (twice; he has to do a double-take).

She's smiling at him in the darkness and it makes him stop breathing for a second.

--

"You sure you meant to send that?" He means it as a joke but it doesn't sound like one. (_I love you._ it said, the real thing, no cute abbreviations, just the words, just the feeling.)

She kisses him, long and sweet and serious, her fingers resting against his jaw. Her eyes are so bright when they pull apart.

"Yes, you idiot, of course I did. If I'm yours, you're mine," she bargains adorably

Nate grins, texts her back in between kisses.

_more than ok with that_.


End file.
